Bianca Torre Is Afraid of Everything, page 24
“What the fuck?” I blurt.
But it’s unmistakable.
Ms. Richards and Jillian are married.
While I must admit my next thought is so cute, that’s immediately followed by an oh no.
Not only is Ms. Richards the person at our school who is involved, but Jillian is too?
Guess that internship is no longer on the table.
I don’t know if I’ll make it to spring.
Tears spring to my eyes. I can’t believe I’ve been with this group for a year . . . I trusted most of them. I definitely trusted Jillian. She’s part of it.
They’re all part of it.
And Ms. Richards on top of it?
I’m such a failure.
We have to get out of here.
The edge drops from Anderson’s voice. “Can we leave now?” he asks, softly but with urgency.
“Yeah,” I say. “Please.”
There’s a metallic click from behind us.
I turn to see Jillian, holding a handgun aimed directly at my face.
My breath catches, heart pounding in my throat.
I don’t know if I want to completely alter the numbering on my list, but at the moment, there might be a tie for first.
Fear #1.5: Guns
“Unfortunately, none of you will be leaving,” Jillian says as she takes a step closer, not moving the barrel from my face. She talks directly to me now. “To think I chewed Jeffrey out for trying to kill you. I said you’d understand, that you’d stay quiet if I could talk to you first. That’s what this day was supposed to be about. You finally accepting us.” She sighs. “Made a real clown out of me, Bianca.”
I don’t know what to say to that, other than “Jeffrey tried to kill me?”
“I like how you focus on that, and not the fact that I wanted to save you.” Jillian rolls her eyes. “Where the hell is my credit?”
Anderson starts to make a move, and she points the gun at him. “You better not try anything. I was a state-ranked shooter and I’ll kill the three of you right now.”
I have to do something to get Anderson and Elaine out of this. Or at least buy us some time to run away.
“Wait,” I say. I hold my hands up and take one step toward Jillian. Two. “I’ll stop all of this, and none of us will say anything. No one else knows.” I take a deep breath. “It’s like you said. I need to understand. You can’t doubt me if you never tried to explain.”
Now I’m barely a foot from Jillian and the gun. It’s not like I can reach out and punch her. She’ll definitely shoot me first, and then Anderson and Elaine.
My breath catches. “Don’t hurt them. I’ll hear you out. I promise.”
Jillian thinks for a long moment. She doesn’t lower the gun.
“Okay,” she says finally. “Party will start early.”
I’m about to let out a breath in relief, when Jillian brings the handle of the gun down on my head and everything snaps to black.
Thirty-One
Enter the Flock
I hear voices before I see anything, but I can’t make out what they’re saying. Death is likely somewhere on my list of fears, but my head is pounding too much to actually think of the numbers. As my vision starts to return, I first notice candlelight.
There are a lot of candles. Like a there-was-a-holiday-sale-at-Bath-and-Body-Works number of candles.
Or like . . . a sacrifice-a-nonbinary-teen-birder-who-pissed-you-off number of candles.
Tears prick my eyes.
“Bianca?”
At least I think someone says my name. I’m groggy and the world is unclear, like I’m suspended under water.
I blink a few times, the top of my head in searing pain as my senses slowly return to me.
I’m not sure I can trust them though, because the sight in front of me is incredibly strange. I’m in a large room, with lanterns spaced out on the wall, revealing strange bird paintings on every surface.
In the center of the room, there’s a stone statue that has the same bird-and-sword design from Mr. Conspiracy’s journal and the sonnet book, except the swords look real.
Surrounding the statue are a bunch of people wearing crimson robes and matching masquerade masks with feathers and long beaks. Despite their disguises, I can recognize them as members of the GLAOE.
Jillian, masked and robed, stands at the opposite side of the room, on top of a podium, so that she is above everyone else.
They remain motionless.
I try to wiggle free, but my arms and legs are both tied to the chair I’m sitting on. I have some blood and spit dried on my shirt.
Fear #46: Sweat and Other Bodily Fluids
Fear #10: Blood
And I can’t even wipe the blood or spit that’s on me. My skin crawls.
They didn’t take me alone. They couldn’t have.
I turn to the right, where Anderson and Elaine are in the same predicament as me. Elaine is awake, her own eyes filled with fear. Anderson groans, just starting to wake up.
“Are you both all right?” I ask.
“We’re alive,” Elaine says. “I think they drugged us. I’m not sure how long we’ve been out.”
“I have to pee so bad,” Anderson says. “I’m gonna get a UTI.”
Guess the gun to the head wasn’t enough. I feel terrible. I glance back to the cloaked people I’ve spent my Saturdays with for the past year. Still no movement from them.
My eyes catch some motion to the left of me, and I twist to see Terrance and Margaret, also tied up. They don’t have any blood on them, so they might not have had a gun to the face, at least.
“You’re not part of this?” I whisper.
“We had no idea this was a cult cover,” Margaret says, voice low. She seems really drowsy too.
“Looking back, the website was a little outdated and weird . . .” Terrance shakes his head. “But we just really like birds.”
They both try to shrug, but can’t really do it with the ropes on. They are surprisingly calm given the situation. I’m on the brink of a panic attack.
I can’t believe I’ve dragged more people into this.
“I’m so sorry,” I say. “I didn’t know they’d bring you here too.”
“It’s not your fault,” Margaret starts. “We—”
Whatever the end of that statement is, it’s entirely lost by the sound of an extremely loud cuckoo clock going off at the other side of the room. While it’s hard to see in the dim lighting, it looks like it’s already five. We’ve been gone all day?
Except Ronan should have our location. He would have shared it when we didn’t come home. They have to be looking for us, don’t they? Did Ryan see something when they left with us?
“Ca-CAW!” Jillian yells once the clock stops.
“Ca-CAW!” the rest of the group responds.
“Oh, hell no,” Anderson says. “This is some real white-people shit.”
“Mm-hmm,” Terrance and Margaret agree.
He’s not wrong. Terrance, Margaret, and Elaine are the only nonwhite members of the group, and the people standing in the circle with their ridiculous costumes on are extremely pale.
Jillian chooses to ignore us in the back, if she can hear us. Instead, she raises both her hands into the sky, red sleeves drooping.
“The Flock before the One,” Jillian says, voice booming.
Mom would really appreciate her projection techniques. That’s definitely from the diaphragm.
“The Flock before the One,” the rest of the group repeats.
“The Flock before the rest,” Jillian says. The group follows with the same line.
The next part they say in unison.
“And once this shallow life is done, we return to our true nest.”
They do one more ca-caw call-and-response, and I’m starting to think that whatever I may have been drugged with was a hallucinogenic, because there is no way this can be real.
“Now,” Jillian says to the crowd. “Today we are gathered to determine the fate of our fellow birder Bianca Torre for continuing to investigate our operation despite multiple warnings—a complete betrayal of the Flock.”
“The Flock before the One,” the group chants, facing me.
“In addition,” Jillian continues, “we have on trial fellow birder Elaine Yee, for conspiring with Bianca. And fellow birders Terrance and Margaret Bryant for . . .” Her voice loses the theatrics as she looks back at the couple. “Honestly, a wrong place, wrong time thing, I’m sorry about that.”
“The Flock before the rest,” the group says in response.
“Lastly, on trial is Bianca’s friend . . .” She trails off, looking toward Anderson.
“Anderson Coleman,” he says. “Nice to meet you all.”
Now is probably not the time to be polite.
“Weird circumstances, but you as well,” Jillian says. Then she switches back to the cult-leader voice. “Anderson Coleman, for also conspiring against the Flock.”
“The Flock before the One!”
My skin pricks, and the ropes around my wrists feel incredibly tight. This is too weird. I can’t even feel my full range of emotions from the betrayal because my mind is too busy trying to process what the hell is happening in front of me.
“You might want to let us go.” I’m almost surprised I have my voice. “Our phones were sharing our location.”
Jillian glances at me. “We stopped the location share after texting your parents that you’re fine and not to worry. Try again.”
I don’t really have anything else up my sleeve. I was kind of banking on that.
“Any other warnings? Interjections? No?” Jillian’s voice returns to her booming, cult-leader tone. “Now . . .”
“I’ll have you know I’m trained in Jiu-Jitsu,” Anderson says. “I just got my blue belt, which basically means I’m dangerous to an untrained person.”
Jillian blinks. “Okay. Go ahead.”
Anderson frowns. “Well, once untied, I’m an extremely dangerous person.”
None of the cloaked members seem scared. Jillian raises her voice again. “Now, we shall start the ceremony.”
It goes quiet for a moment. I try to pull at the ropes, but they are too snug.
“Can I interrupt with a question?” Anderson asks.
The rest of us turn to look at him. Excluding the Flock members. They’re really into the whole creepily-staring-straight-ahead deal.
“Oh. My God.” Jillian throws off her mask. “Make it quick.”
Anderson tries to lift his shoulders in a shrug, but being tied up with his wrist already broken has to seriously hurt. I wish I could seem as calm as him.
“If you are all part of this cul—this lovely group. Why let other people into GLAOE?”
It’s a valid question. I certainly didn’t think it was a cover-up for a money-laundering scheme when I reached out through the website. They could’ve said they weren’t accepting new members.
Jillian blushes. “Well, Bianca reached out and seemed really passionate and so knowledgeable about birds! I couldn’t just ignore someone like that. I thought it’d be a good opportunity to actually start the birding hikes. When Elaine reached out, and then Terrance and Margaret . . . I mean, we already had the hikes at that point, so it seemed easier to go along with it.”
It would almost be sweet that she did this for me . . . and if I wasn’t hearing about it while tied up and if they weren’t threatening my life, I might be a little moved.
“I guess it is a good cover,” Anderson says. “Okay, proceed.”
I glare at him, and he bites his lip a little. I guess there’s not much we can do at this point. Distracting Jillian isn’t the worst idea. Maybe she’ll remember how much she likes me and decide not to kill us.
Unlikely, but worth a shot.
“Thank you.” Jillian spins to address the rest of the still-masked members. “Now, Northern Cardinal and Red-Winged Blackbird are otherwise occupied, so they will agree with the overall decision of the Flock.”
I don’t know who they are based on bird names alone, but I don’t see Jeffrey present. Or Ms. Richards.
If they aren’t here, what are they doing?
“As Belted Kingfisher, I have made the decision to give Bianca Torre the opportunity to repent her crime by joining the Flock.”
“Return to our true nest!” the group says in response.
I’m really starting to get freaked out by the whole chanting thing. I might have to tack that on to the bottom of the list.
Fear #66: Cultlike Chants
Jillian steps off the podium and walks across the room toward me. The rest of the members turn their bodies without actually moving from the spaces they stand in.
“I’m serious, Bianca. Tonight we planned to initiate you. Of course, it wasn’t supposed to go exactly like this . . . we didn’t expect that you knew Steven or would bring friends . . .” She gives an exaggerated sigh before smiling. “Oh well, sometimes you have to improv.”
The rest of the group encourages her with another loud CA-CAW.
“The Flock is more than a collection of like-minded people; we are a family,” Jillian confides. “We share common beliefs, values. We share a similar love that will carry us on from this life to the next one.”
No one else who’s tied up dares say anything. She’s so close now, and she has the gun at her side. The last thing we need is to set her off by interrupting her passionate speech.
“We are trapped in this life,” Jillian continues, “tethered to the dirt with our clunky bodies, our greed and desire for material goods. People are the scum of the earth. So much of humanity is garbage, Bianca. Humans are filled with hatred. And the worst of them, the most vile and disgusting beings, are the ones in power. It is beyond redemption, beyond saving.” Jillian holds up her gun as she speaks, like she’s admitting that she is part of the problem.
“People suck,” Anderson agrees.
Dammit, Anderson. For a moment, I’m terrified Jillian will point the gun at him. Instead, she nods, glad he, too, is following her diatribe. “Exactly,” she says with glassy eyes. “People suck. The only thing to do now is to rise above it.”
Jillian turns to me. “What animal is there that is freer than a bird?” She gets a faraway look before gesturing to the statue behind her. “They are able to soar above the garbage riddling the earth, as they are kings of the sky. They rule a different realm, closer to the heavens. They are the perfect beings.” Her face is alight, eyes sparkling like a kid’s as she looks right at me. “Haven’t you ever wondered what it’s like to taste flight?”
She doesn’t continue, but actually seems to be awaiting a response.
“Well, yeah,” I say, because maybe Anderson is right and it’s a smart idea to agree with the woman carrying a loaded weapon. “Of course.”
“That’s what this is about,” Jillian says. “We have simple rules, group prayers, ways to strengthen our bonds—methods of purifying our human vessels to be reborn as birds in the next life.”
I’m silent for a moment. She sounds so sincere.
“Oh,” I say. A moment passes. “But what does that have to do with the money?”
Jillian actually blushes again. “Well, that was more of Kaitlin’s idea,” she says in a low voice. “But it’s a great point. We have to partake in these disgusting human urges like material greed so we can be completely cleansed for the next life.”
“Kaitlin . . .” I say. “Red-Winged Blackbird?”
“Oh dear. I slip up sometimes.” Jillian gets redder. “When you love someone . . . Plus, once you get used to a certain lifestyle, you have to maintain it, right?”
Ms. Richards is behind the money laundering? Does that mean Jillian was telling the truth when she said she really didn’t want me dead? Not that it matters in this situation, but it might be good to play that card.
And while she may not be a good sapphic role model, at least Jillian wasn’t actively trying to kill me.
Just . . . trying to convert me to . . . a bird . . .
Could be worse.
“You too can rid yourself of humanity and the filth that comes along with being human,” Jillian says, and she’s really selling it. “This life doesn’t have to be the end. In the next life, you can soar.”
“Really?” I ask. “I can?”
“Of course,” she says. “If you join the Flock.”
“The Flock before the One,” I say.
“The Flock before the One,” the group repeats.
Jillian smiles brightly. “I knew you would understand.”
Anderson gives me a look, trying to speak out of the corner of his mouth. “Bianca, do you really believe—”
“Of course I do,” I interrupt. “People do suck. And I’ve gone through so much hardship in my life. And I’ll only be going through more now. For being nonbinary, for being awkward, for being a lesbian. There really is no fixing it. But I can fix my next life . . .” I meet Jillian’s eyes. “Return to my true nest.”
“Yes,” she says. “Yes, exactly.”
I hope Anderson and Elaine realize I’m bluffing and don’t give me away.
“I’m so glad you told me,” I say. “I needed this opportunity, this family.”
Jillian takes the mask with the beak and places it on my face.
“Ca-caw!” I call.
“Ca-caw!” the crowd yells back.
And then a phone starts ringing, sounding a lot like my ringtone.
Jillian steps away to where the phones are, and my chest seizes. Who is that?
Fear #47: Being Caught in a Lie
Jillian picks up my phone, and she can clearly see something in my notifications that makes her entire expression fall.
Oh no.
She walks back over to me, still silent. But something is definitely different. She holds up the phone to my face, where the notifications are visible. I see past the absurd number of missed calls to look at the new text messages.
Kate: Are you going to be able to stop investigating that weird-ass murder cult so you can come to the preview? Mom said you’re out?
Kate: Come celebrate Valley Quail not killing Audrey II
